CLASS OF 1972 | 2014 | ISSUE 3

Newsmaker: Seth Davis ’72

Seth Davis ’72, an attorney and partner at Elias Group, LLP, was named vice chair of the American Bar Association’s Section of Environment, Energy, and Resources Law (SEER) to become chair in 2014. SEER is a forum for strategies and information for environmental, energy and resource lawyers, representing nearly 11,000 members. In practice for almost 40 years, Davis has specialized in environmental law since 1980 and practiced at the Rye-based environmental law firm since 2004. He was involved in the negotiation of the cleanup of one of the country’s first multi-party Superfund sites, the Bluff Road site in South Carolina, and was actively involved in remediating hazardous waste sites throughout the United States and in Puerto Rico. A College of Letters major, he earned his JD from Harvard University School of Law and serves as an adjunct professor in Pace Law School’s environmental program.

Again, the news is sad. Much as I fear this is something to be expected with our age, I sincerely hope I can return to my usual cheerful, snarky style in the next issue.

Chuck Raffel died suddenly at his home in New Rochelle, N.Y., in April. Chuck taught Jewish philosophy for many years at Yeshiva University’s Stern College for Women. He was universally beloved by students and colleagues. The chair of Chuck’s department described him as “a consummate mensch and colleague, and a beloved teacher.”

Chuck was one of my closest friends at Wesleyan, especially during freshman year, when we both lived in Clark Hall and experienced the legendary “Don Juan class.” But I couldn’t put things any better than this excerpt from an e-mail from our mutual friend Mark Gelber:

“I have very clear memories of times spent with Chuck. We lived together the first semester of our senior year. He also visited me in Germany when he was on the Wesleyan program in Paris and he slept on the floor of my small Dachzimmer in Bonn. But, probably it was during our freshman year that he made the strongest impression on me. Before one would enter Clark Hall on most nights one was greeted by your booming voice and the melodies from Meistersinger or another opera. But, by the time one reached the third floor and came close to Chuck’s room, the sounds of The Band’s new album or Dylan or Johnny Cash were clearly audible. One entered Chuck’s room and there he sat, eyes closed, buddha-like, relishing every note and obviously enjoying a paradisiacal experience.

“Chuck’s ironic wit, sharp intelligence, and biting repartee combined with an uproarious and sometimes outrageous sense of humor to make him a terrific companion in almost any situation. He was much wiser than he knew. He became very close to George and Nina Sobelman after he returned from France and when I came back to Wesleyan after another semester abroad, he and you encouraged me to tag along and see for myself what was happening over there on Shabbat evenings. He also included me in a high-powered Rambam seminar which had life-lasting consequences for his intellectual path and career.

“I did not see him for well over 30 years and then owing to Michael Bober’s brilliant orchestration behind the scenes, I met up with Chuck and Bill Schultz in Manhattan for a drink and then Chuck and Michael came to a lecture of mine afterwards.”

Oscar Look died on July 10. I had not seen him since Wesleyan, but I offer these tributes, posted on Facebook, and shared here with permission of the authors. First, from Nat Warren-White:

“Oscar lived his life since leaving WesTech in his hometown of South Addison, Maine, where he fished for lobsters and ran his pound much as his father had done. Oscar served as the harbormaster for many years, was a devoted father to his daughter, Erin, and a deeply loyal friend, sibling, and son. He was a prolific poet and reader, the keeper of all forms of arcane knowledge, which he loved sharing. He will be sorely missed by many…a bigger heart and a truer man would be hard to find. Fortunately, he was able to get out on the water aboard his trusty lobster vessel, Southwind, the morning of the day he left us. I suspect his spirit is flying out to sea right now…the place he was happiest and most at peace.”

And from John Perry Barlow ’69:

“Here’s your last Oscar Look. He was the IIIrd by that name, a 5th generation lobsterman from South Addison, Maine, and unquestioned Harbor Master there for 30 years. When we were in college at Wesleyan, he rode a Royal Enfield with electrics by Lucas, or, as he called their maker, ‘the Prince of Darkness.’ Any moisture would shut them down. He threw himself at everything until there was nothing left to throw. They only made one Oscar Look of his model and that one was in questionable taste. The previous version, Oscar Look Jr. was on the Bataan Death March, as he informed me from his doorway when I turned up in the middle of a winter night looking for his son and was met by the sinewy Elder Look, shivering in a t-shirt and tidy whites. I was so startled by this declaration that all I could think to say was, ‘How was the food?’ ‘I’m going to like you,’ also declared Oscar Look Jr. Oscar Look III was never unkind to anyone in his life. Once, when giant (4’x12’) sheets of Thermopane were popping from their frames on the 60-story John Hancock Tower in Boston and sailing down to the perilous streets below, Oscar went down with a flatbed and gathered up enough windows to build himself a very large glass house for next to nothing. Nobody ever wondered if Oscar Look was a man, even when he had hair down to his butt. No one was ever in a room where Oscar Look was laughing without laughing, too. Like his father and grandfather, he kept a little museum of alarming marine biology: surprising creatures that had been yanked unwillingly to the surface with a tangle of Look Lobsters. He once trapped a lobster so large—60 pounds, I believe—that he gave it to the Boston Aquarium. Last I heard it was still there, growing bigger. He was a man of few words, all of them funny and accurately, if economically, applied. He literally wore himself out and on the evening of July 10, he was, at long last, fully depreciated. The sea is not deep enough for him.”

As I stood at Chuck’s gravesite, together with a number of brilliant, kind Wesleyan comrades, I could only think what a joy it has been to have been part of that community, and to have known such friends as these. Peace to you all.

SETH A. DAVIS | sethdavis@post.harvard.edu
17 Wolf Road, Croton-on-Hudson, NY 10520